


Fallout

by rippergiles



Series: Our Time [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Breathplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: Late 1975. When push comes to shove, something has to give.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Christos Gage and Rebekah Issacs for samplings of their scenes from Angel & Faith.  
> I did not use the archive warnings, because none of them quite apply. However, some dubious consent and mild violence does occur in this chapter, so keep that in mind if it may be upsetting to you.
> 
> I have reformatted this work since publishing it, so some previous comments may not match up with the chapter they were left on. My apologies for any confusion.

_You put up your defenses when you leave_  
 _You leave because you're certain_  
 _Of who you want to be_  
 _You're putting up your armour when you leave_  
 _And you leave because you're certain_  
 _Of who you want to be_   
**-Icarus, Bastille**

   
  


 

 

        “The others barely speak to me—”  
  
        “You’re not speaking to them!” Ethan cried, exhausted. It seemed all they ever did was squabble anymore, and his patience for it was waning. He paced the length of their tiny flat, fingering the icon of Janus on a leather cord around his neck.

        Rupert hung his head miserably, sitting utterly still in contrast with Ethan’s manic energy. “They won’t look at the man responsible for killing Randall.”

        “Ripper, no one thinks that,” Ethan sighed, massaging his temple. " _You_ withdrew, you moved out, there isn’t a waking moment where you’re not drunk or high or both. And your magic—“

        “Fuck my magic!” he snarled, glaring at Ethan. “Randall is dead, the rest of us are falling apart. That’s magic’s fault.”  
  
        “If it weren’t for your magic, Eyghon would have killed us. We  _all_ fucked up,” Ethan insisted, grabbing Ripper by the collar and forcing him to return his gaze. “You saved us.”  
  
        There was a look of revulsion on Rupert’s face, though Ethan suspected it wasn’t intended for him.

        “Maybe for now,” Rupert said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he yanked himself out of Ethan’s grip. “But sooner or later, we’ll pay for what we’ve done.”  
  
        Ethan shook off the goosebumps threatening his neck. Rupert looked away, then stood up, crossing to pick up a bottle of scotch on the floor next to the mattress. He took a swig from the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Ethan walked up to him, taking the bottle out of his hand and sitting it back on the floor.  
  
        “Hey!” Ripper protested, pushing Ethan out of the way to reclaim the scotch. Not hard, but not playfully either.  
  
        “You’ve got to slow down,” Ethan warned him. “Wrecking your liver won’t change anything that’s happened.”  
  
        “No,” said Rupert bitterly, “but it can make me forget about it for a while.”  
  
        “I think we both know that’s not true.”  
  
        Ethan made to slip past him in the small space between the mattress and the wall. His arse grazed Rupert’s groin, not intentionally, but he didn’t exactly avoid it, either. As he moved away, a hand shot out and grabbed Ethan’s wrist. Ripper pulled Ethan back so that they were facing each other, pressing their bodies together and locking eyes with him. Rupert’s energy danced over Ethan’s skin; less focused now, moving in seemingly random patterns, but still present. Rupert’s fingers tugged tentatively at Ethan’s shirt, the silence between them heavy. Ethan hardened his stare, but with a smirk just beneath the surface, daring Rupert to push further.

        Ripper grasped Ethan’s other wrist and held them together, a devilish grin breaking out across his face-- the only kind of smile he wore anymore. Ethan struggled to escape his grip, which only seemed to encourage Ripper, who dragged Ethan to the mattress below them and pinned him down with a bruising kiss. Stubble scratched Ethan’s face as Ripper worked at his belt. Soon the belt was being looped around Ethan’s wrists above his head, followed by his trousers and underwear being pulled down around his ankles. Ripper loomed over him for a moment before undoing his own zipper. After a brief pause to lubricate himself, he returned to align his cock against Ethan’s entrance, pushing in without warning or preamble. The sudden intrusion made Ethan wince, but he strived to maintain as neutral an expression as possible. He knew this game. Ripper, having lost all sense of control when Eyghon claimed Randall’s life, now craved control in whatever arena he could guarantee it. Any rebellion from Ethan was seen as a challenge, and just made Ripper more aggressive in claiming dominance. So on they stubbornly went.  
  
        Ripper pulled out almost entirely then slammed back into him, the pressure point inside Ethan tingling with pleasure. He repeated the action, picking up speed with unrelenting thrusts. Ripper’s hand found its way around Ethan’s throat, his thumb pushing against the major artery and sending shocks into Ethan’s spine. The thrusts continued to grow in intensity, and with them Ripper’s fingers became looser then tighter as he moved back and forth. His windpipe was being constricted enough now to make Ethan lightheaded as he tried to draw breath. It was a daring kind of freedom, comparable to the feeling of being possessed by Eyghon, but at least with this he could probably decide when he’d had enough. As the edges of his vision blurred, a moment of panic threatened Ethan as he tried with bound wrists to pull Ripper’s fingers away and felt them tighten in response. Looking up, he saw Ripper’s eyes were closed as he fucked him; what he was avoiding looking at, Ethan didn’t know.  
  
        “Rip--” he wheezed.  
  
        Ripper didn’t relent. The world began to darken as Ethan struggled for breath against the lightning storm brewing in his throat. Ripper pistoned in and out of him at an incredible speed, finally thrusting deep into Ethan and coming with a shout. The world came back into focus as Ripper slowly released his grip.  
  
        He breathed in great, gulping gasps as Ripper rolled off of him and unbound his hands. Ethan rubbed at his neck, where he was sure bruises would soon form. It wasn’t so long ago that Rupert felt horrified at accidentally marking him in this way; now he seemed to see it as a trophy.  
  
       Ethan stared at Ripper’s backside as he stood up from the mattress and began pulling up his jeans.  
  
        “Seriously?" Ethan croaked, his throat raw from the frenzied magic, whether Rupert had intended to use it or not. His pants were still down, his cock woefully unserviced as Ripper made his way toward the front door without a second glance at Ethan.  
  
        “I’ve got a gig,” Ripper told him shortly as he pulled a leather jacket over his t-shirt. He opened the door and exited, leaving Ethan behind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
        Ripper slipped out of the bathroom, his sinuses burning as he left the others to consume the rest of the powder lined up on the sink and toilet. Lights flashed through the smoke-filled club as he navigated his way through the crowd. Coming up to the side of the stage, he spied the electric guitar he’d gotten at a pawn shop last week. It wasn’t a particularly wise purchase, especially considering he’d been fired from his bartending gig, but at least he wouldn’t have to hope there would be one ready for him to borrow every time the band booked a show.  
  
        “Hey, Ripper,” purred a voice from behind him. He turned to find Olivia with glitter on her cheeks, her eyes rimmed with dark makeup, the bass guitar around her neck hanging lower than her skirt.  
  
        “Hey, Liv. Ready to play?”  
  
        “Just about,” she replied, slipping a flask out of her denim jacket and taking a swig before offering it to him. His mind flashed back to Ethan’s warning, causing him to scowl before accepting the booze.  _I can take care of myself,_ Rupert thought spitefully as he drained the container.  
  
         Thomas sidled up to the stage to join them, drumsticks in hand. He nodded at them, making an effort to give Rupert a half-smile. His relative silence prior to Randall’s death made him the easiest one of the gang to interact with afterward. It was Thomas who had brought a miserable Rupert to his band’s practice when their previous lead singer had succumbed to his ego and left. Hard as it was to express, Rupert was grateful to have something to focus on that wasn’t fueled by self-hatred or regret.  
  
        “Time to go,” Olivia declared, taking Rupert’s hand and pulling him up the stairs to join her on stage. Thomas followed, sliding behind the drumset as Rupert picked up his guitar and plugged it into the amp. He plucked a few strings, grinning as he felt more than heard the sound launch into the crowd.  
  
        “Evenin’ everyone,” he said as he leaned into the microphone, staring out at the sizable crowd. “On drums we ‘ave the incomparable Thomas, on bass we ‘ave the delectable Olivia. You can call me Ripper. And WE! ARE! WRETCHED!”  
  
        He screamed the band’s name into the mic as Thomas brought the drums to life. Ripper glanced down at the setlist, struggling to read Thomas’ scrawl. He heard Olivia begin to play and scrambled to find his place in the song alongside her. Once he’d found the rhythm, Ripper backed up against her, playing back to back with the attractive bassist. He felt her muscles move against his as she strummed her instrument and moved with the sound, the vibrations reverberating through both of them. She turned her head, bringing them cheek to cheek, some of her glitter undoubtedly transferring to him as he smiled against her, then winked. Enjoying the flirtatious twinkle in her eye, he wondered if he’d be acting so intimate with Olivia if Ethan had been here watching.  
  
        Ripper cast his gaze out to the crowd, locking eyes with someone who turned his abstract shame into something concrete in his stomach. Dee’s expression toward him was strange, a mixture of appraisal and pity.  _Of course she’s here, you dolt,_ Ripper thought as he glanced back at Thomas, using any excuse to escape Diedre’s judgment. He detached from Olivia as casually as he could manage and made his way back to the mic stand as the instrumental intro ended. Ripper took a deep breath and began to sing.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
        Ethan hadn’t put on a coat before walking out of their flat into the chill air of late autumn, but he found he didn’t need one. Pent-up energy from the encounter with Rupert flowed through him in fiery waves, itching to be released. He wove through the streets, passing shops and pubs, casting random passers-by angry glares if they dared look at him. When an unlucky woman bumped into him, he set her shopping bags ablaze without a second thought, turning and continuing his brisk pace as she shrieked and stamped on her purchases in alarm.  
  
        Coming to an cross-street, Ethan gripped the traffic light pole and willed his magic into it, a dark grin crossing his face as he saw the light turn green. He felt a grim satisfaction as he walked away, hearing the squealing brakes of cars coming from both directions skidding into the intersection.  
  
        Some of his frustration relieved, Ethan ducked into the next pub he saw and settled in at the bar. He ordered four shots from an attractive bartender, whose dark skin was complemented by the low golden light coming from hanging lamps.  
  
        “Expecting someone?” the man asked as he poured the shots, his voice a silky baritone.  
  
        “Only my inner demons.”  
  
        “Careful ‘round here, mate,” the bartender chuckled, “you might be joined by some actual demons.”  
  
        Ethan glanced around into the dark corners of the pub, glimpsing some rather unpleasant skin conditions and even horns on some of the other patrons. He looked back at the bartender, confused.  
  
        “What are the odds that I wandered into a random bar and it happens to be a gathering place for ghoulies?” he asked, lighting a cigarette.  
  
        “Pretty good, actually,” the man replied. “We’ve got a glamour up. Only those with magic or supernatural connections see the entrance at all.”  
  
        “Ah!” Ethan said, impressed. “This your place?”  
  
        “That it is,” he said, offering Ethan a handshake. “Name’s Jack.”  
  
        “Ethan.”  
  
        “What are you up to tonight, Ethan?”  
  
        “Oh, you know, blowing off some steam,” Ethan smirked. “Just causing a little chaos.”


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
        Backstage, Ripper was already lounging in a chair when the other band members entered, having left the stage before he could hear the reluctant applause of the unenthusiastic crowd.

        “You were crap out there, Ripper,” Thomas offered with uncharacteristic directness. Olivia avoided looking at him, but she wasn’t exactly jumping to his defense, either.

        Ripper glared at him. “I am cut to the quick,” he replied sarcastically. “Turn away, I can't bear for you to see me weep.”

        “Come on, mate. Sod the punk ethos. You're  _good_ ,” Thomas insisted, leaning against the vanity mirror in front of Rupert. “One hell of a lot better than you've been lately. But you've got to make an effort.”

         Ripper rolled his eyes. “Why?”

         “Oi Ripper, there's a bird outside looking for you.”  
  
         He looked up. Diedre had apparently followed Thomas backstage, eliminating Rupert’s chances of avoiding her. Cornered, he wondered what the best response would be to ensure she left him alone.  
  
        “Is she cute?”

        Diedre narrowed her eyes, then jerked her head at Thomas and Olivia, indicating they should leave. They filed out, more than willing to avoid whatever awkward confrontation was coming.  
  
        “You know, Ripper,” she started, “Ethan still talks to us, even if you won’t.”  
  
        He folded his arms across his chest. “So?”  
  
        “ _So_ , I know how much he cares about you. And how he’s worried. We all are.”  
  
        Rupert tried to relax his posture, but still felt his body curling defensively inward. He sighed. “I’m fine, Dee.”  
  
        “You’re not. None of us are,” she said, reaching out and grasping his hand, forcibly reminding him of the night they’d met. He felt his armor soften.  
  
        “I’m sorry for dragging you into this,” Rupert mumbled, looking at the ceiling to avoid letting his eyes fill with tears.  
  
        “You didn’t,” Dee assured him. “We all made our choices. But you’ve got to find better ways to cope than drinking yourself to death and lashing out at those who love you. If you’re gonna treat the rest of us like this, I can’t stop you. But Ethan deserves better.”  
  
        Her words cut into him. He imagined Ethan on his own, unburdened by Rupert's mood swings and able to flourish. How had everything gone so wrong?  
          
        He shoved the thought away. “So is there really someone looking for me?”  
  
        “Oh!” Diedre exclaimed, clearly having forgotten why she came in in the first place. “Yeah, she’s all posh, like. And old. Says she’s family?”  
  
        Rupert furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to speak when, as if on cue, Edna Giles appeared in the doorway.

        He blinked in confusion. “Gran...?”  
  
        Dee squeezed Rupert’s hand once more, then vacated to make room. “I’ll see you around, Ripper.”  
  
        His grandmother stepped forward, patting down her pantsuit as if the club had dirtied it.  _To be fair, it might have._ “It was quite an effort finding you,” she said, pursing her lips.  
  
       Rupert rubbed his neck uncomfortably. “I’ve been...busy.”  
  
       Edna wasn’t ruffled by his lackluster excuse. “Shall we go outside and get a drink?”  
  
  
  


 

       Rupert carried their drinks to the table Edna had settled at, a beer for himself and a dry martini for her. As much as he’d felt he was doing the right thing, rejecting his parents’ wishes when the Watchers Council had come knocking, he had missed spending time with his grandmother, the only person he’d ever really looked up to. He sat down, unsure of how to pick up a conversation after years of silence.

        “Rupert, I don't pretend to know all of what you've gotten up to since you left Oxford,” Edna began, stirring her martini. “But I have heard things. Disturbing things.”  
  
        Getting right into it, then. Rupert wondered for a moment if she could be talking about Ethan, and hoped he wouldn’t have to face her being a bigot in addition to how hard this conversation was already bound to be. But then, if she wasn’t talking about Ethan, she knew more about his other activities than he would have preferred. He thought they’d remained far under the radar of the Watchers Council. He took a gamble on honesty, assuming she knew at least a little about his experimentation with conjuring.

        “Aw, Gran. I've been such an idiot. You always warned me that magic was not to be trifled with,” he said, nausea threatening to overwhelm him. “The things I've seen…the things I've  _done_.”

        Edna covered his hand with hers. “No one who walks in our world does so unscathed. We all have our demons. Often quite literally.” she said with a little laugh. “One does not give up. One fights. One perseveres and overcomes them. We cannot escape the dark, Rupert. But we can refuse to let it own us.”

        Rupert closed his eyes, his other hand rubbing at the tattoo on his arm. “I understand. But what if…in that regard, I've already failed?”

        “You should come back, Rupert,” Edna urged, causing him to reopen his eyes in alarm. “We pushed you into the Watcher Academy too early. I see that now. Your father, as well…not that he'd ever say so outright. But you have a talent for this. You could do so much good…”

        Rupert pulled back from her, a grimace forming on his face. “Why? Because it's my  _duty_? That's father talking.” He took a big gulp of his beer before continuing. “Perhaps  _I_ have no wish to spend my life immersed in horror, before dying prematurely myself.”

        Edna looked at him knowingly. “And yet you're rushing down that path headlong on your own.”  
  
        She definitely knew more than he wanted her to. Rupert’s head pounded as he tried to come to grips with what she was asking of him.

        “I’m not you, Gran. Not nearly as strong or clever,” he began, then decided he may as well bite the bullet and admit what he’d previously only said to Ethan. “People have died horribly because of me. Because I was stupid and selfish.”

        His grandmother rolled her eyes, a considerably different reaction than Rupert had expected. “You were a young fool who felt immortal, did remarkably ill-advised things, and it cost people their lives, eh? You  _bloody_ idiot.”

        A hard smack connected with the side of his head as Edna hit him.  
  
        “Ow!”

        “That doesn't disqualify you from being a Watcher,” she continued on, as if nothing had happened. “It makes you  _perfectly suited_ to mentor a Slayer. They're young girls granted tremendous power. Who can relate to them better? A man like your father, who's done the right and proper thing all his life? Or you?”

        Rupert hesitated, unsure of how specific to be in his protests. “What I've done goes well beyond a misspent youth."

        Edna waved him off. “Oh, stop. I know all about Eyghon.”

        The name sent a chill down his spine, made all the worse by being uttered by someone from his childhood, someone who had seen his potential and now saw him lower than she could have ever expected. It made him feel incredibly small, as if he’d been a young child playing grown-up all this time. He sat in shock, unable to fight the tears now. She ignored him, continuing on brusquely.

         “Perhaps your soul is damned. Perhaps he'll claim it the moment you die and subject you to an eternity of torment.”

         Rupert looked at her, horrified. It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind after he’d seen what Eyghon was capable of, but having someone else vocalise it sent a crystal-clear image of that torment into his psyche. As much as he felt he deserved to be punished for summoning Eyghon, for killing Randall, for probably subjecting his friends to the same eventual horror, he found himself truly afraid at the prospect.  
  
        Edna stared unflinchingly at him. “If you want to be selfish about it, a lifetime of good works may be the one way to save yourself from that fate. The one path to redemption. And if you genuinely want to atone for what you've done, it's your duty, much as you despise the word. You feel you've done wrong? Then stop crying about it and start making amends.”  
  
       He wiped his eyes, considering what she’d said. Maybe she was right, and it was time to get his life back on track. Time to do something productive for the sake of good, rather than just wallowing in sorrow. He’d dropped out so close to graduation that he could probably finish and be working (with salary) within a year. He barely had anything to his name, so moving back into the Council’s properties wouldn’t be difficult. Then a realisation put a halt to his racing mind, like a wall erected from thin air.  _Ethan_. Rupert doubted he’d be able to stay where they were living, it was too far from all the action in case he was needed on short notice. But the thought of Ethan under the Council’s roof with him was laughable.  
  
        His stomach lurched as he realised the choice before him. Become a Watcher, or stay with Ethan.  _Of course,_ he thought bitterly,  _I don’t deserve to have both_.  
  
          _He deserves better,_ Dee’s voice echoed in his mind. Rupert’s fist clenched under the table as he blinked away more tears.  
  
        “I'll do it, Gran,” he agreed finally. “If you teach me, I'll finish my training.” He took a deep breath. “I'll become a Watcher.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

  
           
        Ethan entered their apartment, dragging his feet from exhaustion. After leaving the bar, he’d continued walking the London streets until he’d looked up and didn’t know where he was. One navigation spell, three tube transfers, and two hours later, he’d finally found his way back.  
  
        “Ripper, you home?” he called out, unsure what he wanted the answer to be.  
  
        Ripper emerged from behind a closet door, carrying a waistcoat. Just then, Ethan noticed a suitcase by the door, piled high with clothes and books. His stomach dropped.  
  
        “What’s going on?” Ethan asked sharply. Rupert looked up at him, seemingly lost for words. Gone were the leather jacket and ripped jeans, replaced by a respectable button-down and slacks. He was even wearing the glasses that had sat in their case untouched for months. Ethan didn’t even know Rupert had kept those clothes, let alone why he was wearing them now.  
  
        “I ran into someone,” Rupert said hesitantly. “My gran. We got to sit and talk for a while.”  
  
        “And?” Ethan asked. “Everyone in your family okay?”  
  
        “She asked me to come back to the Watchers.” Rupert had the decency to look him in the eye when he said this, but that almost made the punch in the gut Ethan felt worse. The silence seemed to stretch for ages, the two of them staring at each other from across the room. Though it may have been five metres, Ethan felt as though there was a world between them.  
  
        “That’s all it takes?” Ethan asked scornfully, his voice returning with the venom he felt flooding his veins. “Some old crone happens across you and you’re ready to run back to the people who used you, who fucked you up in the head?”  
  
        “The Council has many flaws,” Rupert admitted, his voice morphing back into the crisp encyclopedia-recitation tone it used to have. “But I’ve come to terms with the fact that even in spite of their bureaucratic mess, the world is still worth saving.”  
  
        Seething, Ethan felt fire at his fingertips again. “I knew you were putting on an act for the others, but I guess you had  _me_ fooled too,” he spat.  
  
        Rupert frowned. “This isn’t about me, Ethan. This is bigger than either of us. Besides, I’ve made myself clear to my grandmother. The conditions of my return… it’s all going to be on my terms this time.”

        “Or what, you’ll leave again? Get over yourself,  _Rupert_. We both know you’re going to do whatever they tell you to do, just to feel like you’re doing  _something_.”  
  
        Rupert hung his head and massaged the bridge of his nose, giving Ethan a bitter satisfaction at having impacted him.  
  
        “I’m just trying to do some good in this world,” Rupert said softly. “After Randall, after everything...I need to feel capable of doing something besides making mistakes.”  
  
        Tears stung Ethan’s eyes, the fact that he could barely contain them frustrating him further. “What about me? Is that what I am-- a mistake?”  
  
        “No!” Rupert answered, rushing forward, then halting as he undoubtedly saw the pain and anger in Ethan’s expression.. “You’ve been everything to me. Somewhere along the way, we took a wrong turn. I’m just trying to make it right.”  
  
        “Make it right by  _leaving_?”  
  
        “You deserve better than what I can give you right now, Ethan. Give me some time to get settled over there--”  
  
       “You don’t get to make that call!” Ethan shouted. “We’re supposed to be partners-- in everything. Now you’re just going to run off to that fascist board of---”  
  
        “We’ve been no better than the Watchers Council,” Rupert broke in, ruefully. “Randall died because of our arrogance.”  
  
       “Randall  _died_ because he let an ancient demon possess him and couldn’t handle keeping it contained,” Ethan replied with a sneer, enjoying the way he made Rupert flinch. “I miss the idiot, I really do, but if he were here he’d  _also_ be sick of your self-loathing bullshit.”

        He saw Rupert’s face harden, the facade re-erecting itself. Rupert crossed and put the waistcoat on the top layer of the suitcase. He pushed down hard, trying to compress the load and force the suitcase closed.  
  
        “You’re really going,” Ethan said in disbelief.  
  
        Rupert gave him a sad nod as he picked up the case. “I am.”  
  
        “Ru, how many years have we been together? We met when you were still a student! Look at all we’ve been through,” Ethan told him, trying to keep his voice steady. “Are you really willing to throw all that away after one night of your family chastising you?”  
  
        “I’m not throwing anything away, Ethan. I’ve learned a lot...changed a lot since I met you.”  
  
        He hated how measured and calm Rupert was being about this. Ethan never thought he’d be begging for a fight after the last few months with Ripper, but now he’d take it over feeling like Rupert didn’t care at all.  
  
        “Could have fooled me,” Ethan jeered. “Because you seem an awful lot like that bookworm I once met.”  
  
        “That bookworm was good enough for you once,” Rupert said icily, and Ethan thought he might have caught a tremble in his lips.  
  
        “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve changed too.”  
  
        Somehow, Ethan knew that if he just shut up, they could work something out. Rupert could go back to work as a Watcher and Ethan could sneak into his quarters to spend time with him. It would be like being in dorms again, horny schoolboys trying to get off before the hall supervisor checked in. The challenge almost appealed to him, keeping their relationship right under the Council’s nose. But he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and Ethan wasn’t about to settle for being anyone’s secret.  
  
         “Just go, then,” he goaded, his voice low and dangerous. “You go play daddy to some girl who--”

        “I’m not playing anything,” Rupert interrupted him. “If I get assigned a Slayer I’ll be training her, that’s all.”

        “Oh, Ripper,” Ethan breathed, a genuine rush of affection surprising him, making his heart break even further. “You could never resist taking care of people.”  
  
       Rupert looked at the ground, brow knitted. “Would it be easier if I- if I waited a few days?”  
  
       Ethan glared at him, his dark eyes piercing Rupert for as long as he could stand. “I don’t need your  _pity_ ,” he said in disgust.  
  
       Ethan felt a surge of anger as a stack of plates from their kitchenette levitated and launched themselves at Rupert, smashing into the wall behind him one by one as he ducked, shielding his head. The fact that Rupert didn’t instinctively use his magic to stop them told Ethan enough.  
  
        Green eyes met brown as Rupert opened the door, holding his suitcase against his chest, stepping over the shards of broken plates. He stood in the doorway for a moment, genuine heartbreak written on his face. Ethan was torn. Part of him was satisfied that Rupert was hurting even a fraction of how much he was. The other part was piling onto his sadness with the thought that Rupert, his Ripper, was choosing the Council, which he had shown nothing but vitriol toward for years, over him.  
  
        “Goodbye, Ethan,” Rupert said, breaking the silence. “I...”  
  
        He paused, seeming to reconsider. Leaving the sentiment unfinished, he looked away, stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

        The moment Rupert was out of his sight, Ethan couldn’t maintain the haughty anger any longer. The fire of his magic seemed to drain from him as he collapsed sobbing onto the floor, cold and alone.


End file.
